


Out of Proportion

by silverfoxflower



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Drunk Blow Jobs, Facials, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxflower/pseuds/silverfoxflower
Summary: “Yeah,” Geralt said shakily. He had almost died, after all. Jaskier had to sublimate the pounding of his heart into something that didn’t make him want to burst into tears.He wanted to suck Geralt’s cock.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 177





	Out of Proportion

Jaskier was too drunk to make this happen. Geralt - his tolerance lowered by some unholy mix of potions that was still currently knitting his body together - was … also probably too drunk to make this happen.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined, mashing his mouth sloppily against Geralt’s chin, his cheek, mostly anywhere but his actual lips, for which Jaskier had been aiming. “I want … I _need_ …”

“Yeah,” Geralt said shakily. He had almost died, after all. Jaskier had to sublimate the pounding of his heart into something that didn’t make him want to burst into tears.

He wanted to suck Geralt’s cock.

Careful of his bandages, Jaskier pushed Geralt into the inn bed, following him down as he groped clumsily at the front of Geralt’s pants. Geralt was little help in the matter, distracting Jaskier with sucking bites along the line of his neck. 

Did Witchers get limp-dicked from drink? It certainly didn’t seem that way. Geralt was half-hard and stirring under Jaskier’s palm, though he’d accomplished little more than fitful rubbing over the cloth of Geralt’s braies.

Jaskier tried to slide smoothly to the floor between Geralt’s thighs, and mostly succeeded, though the world spun a bit when his knees hit the hard floor.

“Alright,” Jaskier whispered with a serious tone. Now that he had the buttons of Geralt’s braies in front of his very face, surely this would be easier.

“You need …” Geralt swallowed thickly, looking gorgeously disheveled in the candlelight, “need some help with that?”

“You think … I can’t handle _buttons_? I got … I got _degrees_ ,” Jaskier protested, and refuted himself immediately by ripping the top button off of Geralt’s pants. It spun away into the darkness, a devastating casualty. “Drat,” Jaskier mumbled, “uh … we’ll find that in the morning.” Melitele knew that the last thing they needed was the front of Geralt’s braies to have a permanent gape, with the threat of Geralt’s prick slipping out to ambush them at any moment. Jaskier already wasn’t the most coordinated individual with Geralt around, but this would have him walking into trees left and right. 

“’m help,” Geralt grunted, and there was a clumsy flurry of overlapping fingers, which probably prolonged the ordeal if anything.

By the time Geralt’s pants were finally pulled from his hips, his cock was almost fully hard, springing from his smalls with an energetic flouish. And what a beautiful thing it was.

Jaskier moaned, rolling his cheek against it like a kitten. “Mmm, it’s warm.”

“’d hope so,” Geralt muttered, but seemed bashful at the praise, cupping his hand behind Jaskier’s head and sliding his fingers through his hair.

Jaskier wrapped his hand around the shaft, its girth making some heat curl at the bottom of his stomach. His own prick was beginning to stir at the proceedings, but Jaskier ignored it in favor of sliding his mouth over the head of Geralt’s cock, tasting his bath-clean skin, the salt-tang of his pre-come, the heat and weight on his tongue, stretching his jaw to an almost painful degree.

Jaskier could admit that he wasn’t in his best form tonight. He was overeager, tried to show off and fit too much in his mouth at once, made himself gag and was forced to pull off, coughing. He was loud and sloppy, drool coating his chin as he sucked Geralt with starving noises. There was probably even the scrape of teeth, a few times.

Geralt seemed to enjoy it, all the same. He moaned quietly in time with Jaskier’s pulls, panted shallowly between, and continued to slide his fingers through Jaskier’s hair with a shaking gentleness even as he clenched his other fist in the bedsheets.

Jaskier’s hand stroked Geralt in an uneven rhythm, slipping on slick of his saliva, making obscene noises as he swallowed around as much of Geralt’s cock as he could fit in his mouth. He could feel Geralt growing close by the twitch in his thighs, the sudden shudder in his breath. Geralt curled up off the bed, his fingers sliding out of Jaskier hair to twist in the fabric of his tunic over his back.

“Jaskier,” he whispered darkly.

“You can,” Jaskier pulled off, panting. “If you want to,” he spread his knees and opened his mouth, giving Geralt a view of the pink of his spread tongue, his swollen lips, shining with spit.

Geralt groaned like a blade was being ripped from his stomach, though he had been all too silent when the very same thing had happened to him earlier. Jaskier had to grab onto Geralt’s shins, and squeeze them tightly to remind himself that Geralt was here with him now, strong and vital and _alive_.

Geralt’s own hand around his cock shouldn’t have been as arresting a site as it was, but Jaskier was mesmerized. Geralt’s white-knuckled grip against the pink, slick flesh, the way his eyes fluttered closed at the moment of his climax, Jaskier’s name on his lips.

Jaskier was so preoccupied with watching that he almost forgot to close his eyes in time, feeling the warm splash of Geralt’s spend spill on his face, striping his cheeks, dripping down his chin.

In the panting, quiet aftermath, Jaskier licked his lips experimentally and heard Geralt make a pained sound.

“Lemme …” Geralt rolled slowly to his side.

“’s fine,” Jaskier said, patting his hips for his handkerchief, only to remember that he had used it in panic earlier to press against Geralt’s bleeding side. That scrap of lace and silk had not lasted very long. Shaking his head, Jaskier rubbed his sleeve over his face instead, startling when he felt Geralt kneel next to him.

“Hmm,” Geralt said, which wasn’t exactly a confession of feelings, but when he followed that up by licking a hot stripe across Jaskier’s cheek, then sliding their mouths together with more coordination than Jaskier had been able to display all evening …

Jaskier arched when he felt Geralt’s large hand cup his cock through his braies. He had thought that he was too drunk for it, was about to protest that he was happy to wait until the morning for his turn, if Geralt was still interested, that was-

But then Geralt _squeezed_ , making Jaskier’s hips stutter to his grip.

_Hm_ , Jaskier thought, opening his mouth for Geralt’s tongue, maybe they could make this happen after all.

**Author's Note:**

> my [tumblr](https://greyduckgreygoose.tumblr.com/tagged/myfic)


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